


For I Have Sinned

by Computerstickman



Series: Sins Left Unconfessed [2]
Category: Faith (Airdorf Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sex, Multi, i still dont know how tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Computerstickman/pseuds/Computerstickman
Summary: It was just a dream, John kept telling himself. He eagerly awaited Garcia's reply.
Relationships: John Ward/Demon, John Ward/Father Garcia
Series: Sins Left Unconfessed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806541
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Repent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAND WE'RE BACK  
> This fic is a continuation of my one off, but it's not necessary to read that one to understand what's going on here.  
> There's no pictures in this one, and I don't think it's necessary to add any :P (well, I guess pictures aren't necessary in fics anyways but you get it)  
> I also have to make SO MANY TITLES,,, collection, fic titles in general, now I have no idea what to title these chapters fhdjfkdhsj
> 
> AND I FORGOT TO ADD THE MOST IMPORTANT NOTE: This takes place in between chapters 1 and 2 of Faith. Things will be addressed later :P

_ John, _

_ I have discovered that the cult in question is planning on performing the Profane Sabbath a few months from now. I do not know quite yet what their plans are. I will continue my research. _

_ In regards to your last letter, I do not recognize the name  _ **_Isker_ ** _ , from either my own experience or recent research. I will try to find information on this demon, though at this time the Profane Sabbath is of higher priority. If you could give me more information on its appearance or behavior, that would be helpful. _

_ \- Father Garcia  _

  
  
  


John pondered over the note again. He had gotten it about an hour ago with the late mail.  _ Thank god _ , he thought to himself. He had eagerly awaited Garcia's next letter, at least, more than usual this time.

He had stayed up for the past two days straight, afraid what he would see if he closed his eyes. This wasn't uncommon for the man however, as his usual nightmares kept him awake for days at a time. Awake until he eventually passed out from exhaustion. 

He was always eager to receive Garcia's letters. Other than his devotion and his fatih, it was the only thing that kept him going. He looked forward to checking the mail every morning. It was strictly business of course, Ward and Garcia had been on a trail leading to this mysterious cult of unknown origin, leading back to Amy's possession. His letters were also the only human contact John had left.

John sat down at his kitchen table, grabbing a few pieces of paper and a pen to start writing his reply. 

_ Father Garcia, _

He thought about what he should write.  _ Don’t start with the personal demon situation _ , he thought to himself,  _ don’t make it seem like you’re obsessed _ .  _ I’m not obsessed. _ He continued to write.

_ I’m glad to hear you’re making headway in the investigation. I will continue to do what I can here to find more information.  _

  
  


He thought back to his dream. At least, willingly this time. He couldn’t  _ stop _ thinking about the dream, and Isker,  _ that demon _ , no matter how much he tried to block it out.

_Thank you for your willingness to help me with this personal situation during these times. The demon was about my height, with a skinny build._ **_~~Their bod~~_** John immediately scribbled out the pronoun, crumpled up the unfinished letter, and picked up a new sheet of paper.

A few more crumpled unfinished letters later, he finally had a letter he was content with sending out.

_ Father Garcia, _

_ I am glad to hear that progress is being made on our investigation. A few months is a decent amount of time, but there is still no time to rest. I will continue to do what I can from here. _

_ Thank you for your willingness to help during this time. I can’t remember what exactly happened in my dream these few days later. My memory is very fuzzy, but I remember a few things. The demon was about my height, had grey skin, and a skinny build. It was humanoid, had two arms, two legs, brown hair covering most of its face, and had an inverted star marked on its chest. Its eyes were red, with deep blue pupils. We were in a church, alone. I can't remember what the demon did to me, although I know for sure it wasn't anything good. Something posing as Karen appeared from behind and attacked me before I awoke. I can't remember how I learned the demon's name, but I do know that is its name. Possibly spelled wrong. I apologize I could not be more helpful.  _

_ \- John  _

He tapped his pen against the table, creating a  _ tap, tap, tap _ , consistent with the ticking of the clock on the wall. His hand was smooshed against his face in an attempt to keep his head up. His eyes drooped, blinking slowly. It was about 1:40 AM, but it was more the fact John had been up for two days straight that made him so exhausted. He took in a breath to sigh, but a yawn came out instead. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with a lazy hand as he yawned again and wiped his hand on his shirt.

John had created a crude drawing to go along with his letter, failed versions also crumpled up littering the table and floor. He was no artist by any stretch of the word, but he settled on a crude drawing of the figure. His description could cover the rest. The drawing was hidden underneath the written letter, John refusing to look at it any longer than he needed to. 

He slumped his head onto his crossed arms resting on the table. He lifted his head only to push the pieces of paper away, then slumped back over.

  
  
  


~~~~

  
  
  


Next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to the faint sounds of birds chirping outside.  _ It's morning _ , he thought to himself. He had taken notice from his many nights spent awake that the birds started to chirp at around 5 AM. His whole body felt stiff, but his neck and head hurt the worst. Being hunched over a table wasn't the best way to sleep. 

John lifted his body from the hardwood and now imprinted arms to stretch. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, rotating his head around in a circle, hearing the soft cracking noises of what could only be his bones. He turned to look at the clock. 5:50 AM. Only four hours of sleep, not enough to keep him going for that long. 

_ No dreams. _

"No dreams." He groggily croaked. At least he had gotten some sleep without being tormented.

John got up and stretched, groaning as his joints popped. He rolled his head around again, hoping that it would help the headache. Maybe it had helped for a second, but not too much. He walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. As he sipped the lukewarm, not-the-best-tasting water, he stared out the window into the forest behind his house. 

The day was young, and the sun still rising, lighting his backyard forest warmly. A pair of small birds fluttered between trees in the distance, eventually getting lost in the depth of the woods. There wasn't much other movement to be seen. 

John was far from a happy man. His life was in shambles, demons haunted him, and he was alone. But as long as he held onto his faith, and Garcia was on his side, he could keep fighting. 

John hadn't even finished half the glass when he turned back to the cluttered table, setting the glass in the sink. He grabbed the two pieces of paper, still hiding from the drawing. It could definitely be written more proper, thinking as he looked over his writing again. But he was tired, both mentally and physically, to care about rewriting it. It contained all the information he needed to share, and that was good enough for him. 

After searching the house, John found an envelope and a stamp. The letter and the drawing were placed inside, sealed, and addressed to Father Garcia. John checked the time, 6:15 AM. It was still a few hours until the post office opened. Of course, he could just drop it off at a mailbox, but he wanted to get the mail to Garcia as fast as possible. 

He was sitting back down at the table again, just having finished addressing the letter. He had written Garcia enough times to remember it. John directed his attention away from the clock, back to the cluttered table.

John's house had been getting more and more unkempt as time went on. It wasn't a dump, but the bed was unmade, dishes were usually not cleaned, and garbage lay undisposed of on tables and other surfaces. There wasn't much of a point to keeping his place clean anymore. Nobody but him would ever step foot in his house again. 

The crumpled pieces of paper compelled him to clean them up. He didn’t want any more rementants of this hanging around if he could help it. He began to pick up the discarded letters and drawings. Some had fallen on the floor. He probably threw them further than he thought he did. 

The demon lay beneath him, mouth slightly agape, eyes closed in ecstasy. 

John furrowed his eyebrows and closed his eyes, gimiacing. That  _ damn _ image came to him again. It  _ kept _ wriggiling its way back into John's mind.  _ It was just a dream, _ John kept telling himself. But deep down, he wondered, what would he have done if it  wasn't ? 

His feelings were still conflicted. He  _ hated _ it, and hated whenever those thoughts came back to him, which was very often. But this was how he was  _ supposed _ to feel, this is how he  _ needed _ to feel. It would be unforgivable if he enjoyed the heinous act, dream or not, it would be a sin he could not repent for. He  _ could not _ find any joy in this. But deep down, he knew he did.

“ _ Dammit! _ ” John shouted, throwing the papers into the garbage. “ _ Get out of my head! _ ”

John stormed back over to the table, picking up one of the last pieces of paper available, and the pen that still lay near his sealed letter. He furiously scribbled on the page, trying to create the heinous scene that kept tormenting him. John was far from being any artist, he had no idea how to draw, but he continued to scribble on the page. The drawing was incomprehensible to anyone but himself, and even then it hardly resembled any figures or scenes. 

John threw the pen down, and rushed to the other room where he had left his crucifix.  _ Slightly damp… _ his brain seemed to betray himself to think as he picked it up.  _ No, my hands are just sweaty, _ he corrected. John stormed back into the kitchen, clutching his cross tight, glaring at the mess on the page. 

“As God is my witness,” John began to shout, “I repent for these sinful thoughts! Now, I beg of thee, remove from me the curse of this demon!” With that, John picked up the price of paper and began to furiously rip it to shreds. It was a lazy, last-ditch effort, but he prayed that it would work. 

Shreds of the paper fluttered to the floor around him. His eyes followed the last two shreds as they gently floated to the floor. He stomped on them, and a few other pieces surrounding them. John huffed, looking at light carnage around him. A few pieces of the drawing lay face up, showing the ugly scribbles of an unstable man. 

John’s shoulders went slack. His distressed expression faded and his face drooped.

One of the pieces that lay face up looked as if… it was an eye staring back up at him. The demon stared back up at him, longingly. 

John turned away. He leaned over the table, and placed his hands down with a  _ thud _ . He closed his eyes, and then slammed his head down into the hardwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh John you idiot
> 
> A little thing I wanted to touch on that's in both fics. John's pronoun usage for the demon has significance, it shows how he fluxuates and struggles with humanizing/dehumanizing the demon. I'm sure they/them pronouns wouldn't be used back in the 1980's by some white priest.... but it makes it a whole lot less confusing than if I kept switching between he and she.
> 
> Also they keep spelling the damn name wrong! Well, Iskr never told them how to spell it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Lingering Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You must face what you're done, John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BAAACK  
> ok but to be honest I had this written for a while? But didn't get to posting it and refining it until now. Even though I say "refine" I don't think it's a masterpiece or anything close hjsfkhsfs
> 
> it's just here :P

_ "Our forecast predicts a high of 82° for this week, with a low of 65°. Monday you should expect to see some clouds…"  _ the TV newscaster continued to go on about the weather. 

John never cared much for television anymore, or about the news. He only turned it on to try and fill the emptiness in his house. It was so quiet, all the time. Even though he didn't pay too much attention to what was happening on the screen, it made him feel a little bit better to have the background noise. And somebody talking. 

_ "And now back to you in the studio."  _ The weather forecast was over. But he never paid much attention to it. Unless it was a hurricane, he wasn't going outside anyways. Well, other than to his car to drive around, maybe pick up some food. He didn't leave his house unless it was necessary.

John had once worried about being called a criminal after the first, and then second, grim encounters with the Martin estate. He feared he would see his face plastered on television screens everywhere,  _ wanted _ . But he was past that point now. He did all he could, repented for his sins, and Garcia and him were now moving forward.

_ Garcia… _

John had woken up on the hardwood floor, his head pounding from the concussion he'd given himself. He wasn't out for that long, but at least the post office was open now. But passing a few hours wasn't worth the migraine it caused.

John finally took some aspirin for his throbbing headache, and left to mail the letter. He didn't like to go outside his home very often, for multiple reasons, but driving was fairly calming. He liked to drive, just drive, to no place in particular. Just watch the scenery and trees pass by, turn his brain off for a while. He couldn't stay out as long as he wanted anymore though, money was starting to get low and gas wasn't a top priority. 

He now sat at his couch, hours later, newscaster reporting on the newest something or other.

_ So stupid… _ he thought about how stupid he must have looked. Scribbling frantically on a piece of paper, yelling, ripping it to shreds, then knocking himself out on the kitchen table. It was such a fruitless effort, he questioned why he even thought about trying it in the first place. The thoughts didn't go away, but he at least had his own stupidity to try and think about instead. 

A woman was standing outside somewhere, talking about something on the television. Besides making him feel less alone, the drawl of the TV and the calm voices of talk shows or news stations helped him fall asleep when it was hard to. And he felt the exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. 

He had gradually gotten more and more sprawled out on the couch, body getting more and more slack. His eyelids were heavy, and it was hard to focus on the tv without his vision getting blurred and distorted from drifting off. Eventually, he had himself laid across the couch. His eyes were staying closed longer, jolting open when he noticed he was drifting off. But it was no use trying to stay awake, as sleep soon enveloped him.

~~~~

The room was dark. So dark in fact, that you couldn't see the walls. There were only a few candles that illuminated the area around him, but not much else. 

John scanned the room, trying to take in his surroundings, or anything in the darkness for that matter. He considered picking up one of the candles to try and light the room with, but they were all melted to the floor. 

He held his crux in ready. Anything could be waiting in the darkness for him, ready to attack. His head paused as he saw blue and red shine from the darkness. Something was looking at him. 

He raised his cross, ready to dispel whatever started at him, enveloped in darkness.

"John!" A voice called out, cheerily, from the direction John was staring at. His heart sank, and he suddenly started to feel sick as it began to take form in the candlelight. 

Grey-blue skin… messy brown hair… humanoid features…  _ No… _

"It's so nice to finally see you again. I started to fear I wouldn't see you, or something happened…" It approached him, but John backed up, keeping a couple feet of distance between them. He held his crucifix steady in its direction. He felt a pit form in his stomach.

"It's, ah, it's ok, it's just me John." It stood a few feet away, not advancing further. "Could you put that down please? It doesn't make me feel so well…" 

_ Good. _ John thought to himself. If he kept this up, maybe it would stay away from him. 

"John? What's wrong?" It looked him in the face. "You look… tired. You haven't been sleeping, have you." It sounded concerned, and somewhat disappointed. 

"Demons like to bother me when I do that." He said flatly. He kept his stance.

It just looked at him. He averted his gaze, but kept his cross pointed.

"John, what happened?"

" _ Don't _ talk to me like that!" He snapped, causing the demon to flinch back. "Like I  _ know _ you. Like we have  _ anything. You _ happened. You made me commit, a- th-  _ sins! _ " 

"But I thought you wanted-"

" **I didn't want anything!** " 

"John-" The demon took a step forward. John took a step back.

" _ Shut up! _ " Why couldn't it just leave him  _ alone? _

"John  _ please- _ " It pleaded and reached its arms out, face contorting uncomfortably. 

" _ SHUT UP! _ "

There was a yell, a thud, then clinking of metal hitting the floor.

He opened his eyes. The scene lay before him, the demon collapsed to the floor, his cross lying a good several feet away from him. Was that… blood?

The demon pushed itself up on its arms, facing away from him. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them moved. John could hardly see the demon's face, but something dripped from it. Blood? Tears? 

He had thrown his cross at the demon. He just now realized that, taking in context clues from the scene before him. It… worked in keeping it away from him. At least. He should be glad. But… he wasn't. What  _ did _ he feel? Bad? Guilt? Regret? Shame? It was hard to say.

Suddenly the darkness seemed to creep in on him. Suffocating, closing in, almost as if he was being pulled from reality. The demon was still sat on the floor, unmoving as the world collapsed around them.

~~~~

He awoke once again. He didn't jump, he wasn't startled this time, he just opened his eyes. 

He was sprawled out on the couch, arm hanging off the side, his body threatening to roll off onto the floor. He stretched as he readjusted himself to lay more comfortably, yawning as he did.

The tv was still on, now playing the morning talk show. He was half listening to the hostesses, half in his own mind. He was processing his dream… again.

At least this time there was a lot less to process. He didn't commit any sins, he didn't engage in anything, he didn't give in. Except… maybe to his emotions.

But he would never throw away his cross like that. No, he would never do that. It would make him vulnerable, if not show a testament to his deteriorating faith.

He didn't feel bad. He shouldn't feel bad. It was a dream, and whatever was tormenting him deserved it. Maybe now it got the hint, and would stay away from him. 

He  _ did not _ feel bad. He didn't feel anything towards the hell spawn. He didn't feel anything except discontentment, and disgust. He did not feel bad. He did not feel  _ good _ . He  _ never _ felt anything besides resentment.

_ If you were the one to kill me, I guess it wouldn't be the worst way to go. _

John bolted up from the couch, so quickly he stumbled trying to gain his footing. It came as a thought, though it felt like it wasn't his. It  _ wasn't  _ his. He rapidly looked around the room.

" _ Show yourself! _ " He yelled, frantically searching the room. The TV was still on, partially clouding his thought and hearing. He fumbled trying to grab the remote so quickly and turned the TV off. 

He looked around the room again, this time more carefully. He listened for even the slightest sound, looked for any movement. There was nothing. There was quiet.

Quiet, quiet, there was always quiet. He just stood there for a second, soaking it in. There was nobody there. And then suddenly, it all hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was alone.  _ He was alone _ .

His shoulders sagged.

He was alone and there was nobody left who cared about him.

He felt an emptiness form in his chest.

Garcia would soon abandon him once he figured out what he'd done.

He sat back down on the couch.  _ "No. Stop it. _ " He weakly muttered.

Next time he'd go out, try to help, as if he  _ was _ actually helping anything, he would die.

He put his hands over his face.

He would die, and his body would be left to rot wherever it lay.

His face contorted.  _ "Stop it… please. _ " He begged, weakly, as if trying to get some other force to stop his thinking. But these thoughts were his own.

He would die, and nobody would care. The world would forget about him, there and then.

He started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression moments u_u
> 
> This one was a bit shorter, but I'm planning bigger things for the next chapters!


	3. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this thing sitting around for a while, realized I should post it :p

_ Father Garcia, _

_ The demon has entered my dreams again. It has begun tormenting me. The loneliness in this house is starting to catch up with me. _

_ \- John _

_ ~~~~~ _

John had been storming around the house, frantic.

~~~~~

_ Ward, _

_ The demon you described does not sound familiar to me, I regret to inform. However, I intend on continuing my research, and I'll try and spend some extra time to figure out what this  _ **_Isker_ ** _ is. Despite us not knowing much about it, there should be some way to dispel the demon. _

_ In regards to that, I plan on coming to visit you sometime during the next week. We should meet up to discuss our findings, as well as continue our research together, both on the cult and your personal demon. You say that the lack of a presence in your house has been pressing on you? Then I shall hope my visit will quell that. _

_ \- Father Garcia _

  
  


_ ~~~~~ _

John was nervewracked.

Garcia was coming over.  _ Shit, Garcia's coming over! _ John was panicked, frantic, despite the visit being about a week from now. It would be easy for John to deflect and lie in letters, but in person? The truth would surely come out. 

It had been a few more days, sleepless days, maybe even weeks. He couldn't keep track anymore. The sun just rose and set and time passed all the same. Slow. Empty. Quiet. He sat around mostly, trying to forget. But you can't forget if you're intentionally trying to. You're just going to think about it more. It didn't help that John had no life, no interaction with the world outside of these demons. And Garcia. 

On one hand, John was ecstatic to see Garcia again. It had been so long since he last saw the man, and the only contact he had with him for so long had just been his writing. It would be nice to have company again. Be with a human presence that he didn't fear. Mostly.

On the other hand… He lied when he wrote he didn't remember what happened in his dream. He remembered. And it haunted him. Emotions, feelings, thoughts, both good and bad were at war in his head. He tried his best to convince himself some of them weren't true. But Garcia would come over, ask him again about his experience with the demon… and he'd find out. He'd clearly see through John's lie when he couldn't rewrite and rethink it over and over. Once he found out… he would leave. A disgrace, unholy, John would be, and Garcia wouldn't be able to stand being associated with a man who defiled himself.

John had been able to catch a few winks of sleep here and there, and thankfully, there were no more instances of that demon. But he still feared sleep, and kept himself awake for days on end to avoid it. There was no telling what could happen if he had his dreams again.

John was now storming though his house, cleaning things up, getting rid of any notes or post its on his walls that could be deemed obsessive. He cleaned up his garbage, and for once, made his bed. 

One piece of paper still lay on his nightstand. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Let alone touch it ever again. 

  
  


_ John, _

_ I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry. _

_ I will always love you back. _

_ \- Karen _

  
  


He'd read it over a hundred times. Was that even true? She surely didn't love him. Not anymore. Especially not now.

He couldn't keep track of the time. How long had it been since that note was written? A year? Months? At least months.

He continued to clean. Prepare for Garcia's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this in my docs for like, months and I'm not exactly sure why I didn't post it? Anyways, here's the third chapter!  
> It's real short, but addresses a detail I've been meaning to write in accordance to the timeline and the games. Like a little interlude I suppose.


End file.
